


mccree wakes up

by texastoastbutter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Short, on mobile of all things, written at a really late time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texastoastbutter/pseuds/texastoastbutter
Summary: title
Kudos: 1





	mccree wakes up

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t used a03 to post anything in a while, it’s really late, and I’m trying to recall as much as I can about Overwatch stuff because I’m a dummy dumb dumb
> 
> I like thinking about an entire team packing into a van and driving places ok(except they’re gonna have to fly somewhere but whatever)

It was hard to wake up in the morning.

Mccree tried to force his eyes open, but they stayed glued shut, obscuring his vision in darkness. All he could make out was his window partially open and some light streaming through.

“Jesse,” Somebody said from the direction of his door. He recognized it as Widowmaker. “We’re going. Pack your stuff in uh...” he assumed she was checking her phone. “Fifteen minutes. Don’t be late, please. I don’t want to get stuck with Tracer in the backseat again.” 

He heard the door close and he opened his eyes finally. He’d already gotten comfortable in Junkertown, but going home might be fun. He pushed himself up and slipped off the bed, putting on his slippers before getting to work.

His back ached when he leaned down to pick up his dirty clothes, dropping them into a little box next to his bed. A little finch that had creeped into his room some time hopped around on the tubes above his head, chirping loudly. The little tapping of the feet against the metal was annoying Mccree badly.

He kept packing, taking frequent breaks to close his eyes and rest. It was so exhausting. The Australian heat was seeping through the cracks, the stuff he had with him was too much to pack alone, and he’d only just woken up.

Somebody knocked on the door. “Come in,” he said. He scooted over a little in his small room to let the door open. Widowmaker peeked back in, sniper slung over her back and bag hung on one arm.

“You need help?” She examined the room. It was mostly clean, and most stuff was packed besides a jacket or two.

“Oh.” Mccree must’ve taken up a lot of time. “No. No, I don’t think so.” There was a moment of silence before Widowmaker stepped the rest of the way in and threw the left over stuff in his bags, handing him one, and taking the rest with her.

He stared through the open doorframe. He swore there was some sort of catch to this; her turning around and giving back his many bags to carry himself, but no. She stayed gone, and he stood up to catch up to her. Maybe that stone cold front she put up was starting to crumble.


End file.
